They Don't Know
by Northern-Southern Belle
Summary: Fed up with Snow's attempts to set her up for a Valentine's Day ball, so-called "Spinster Librarian" Belle French asks friend and fellow outcast Mr. Gold, but after dinner, they decide to skip the ball, avoid everyone's whispering and gossip, and just spend an evening with each other, getting to know one another on a more personal level. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine!**

"What about him?" Snow asked Belle as they sat next to each other at Granny's. It was almost Valentine's day, of course the Charmings were holding a ball to celebrate and Snow, bless her heart, wanted to pair everyone up like Noah's Ark so no one would be without a partner, especially Storybrooke's infamous Spinster Librarian.

They tried to act like no one thought of her that way, but she saw their looks of pity and the shakes of their heads as she walked down the street.

"Belle?"

"What?" Belle looked down at the baby-faced, blue eyed man whose picture Snow was holding out for her approval. He looked more like David and he wasn't Belle's type at all. Not that she knew for sure what her type _was._ All she knew was that she knew what it _wasn't_.

"Okay," Snow nodded and turned to the next page, taking out another picture of a man Belle would have to reject.

"Not him," Belle shook her head.

"But you didn't even look!" Snow told her. "How do you know you won't like him if you don't even look?"

"Because I know what I like, all right?" She snapped. "Or at least what I don't! At least a lot more than you! And what is with you needing to pair everyone up? I could have a perfect time at your silly little dance if I wanted to! All by myself! So there!" She then gave a curt nod and strode purposefully from the diner, even though she hadn't had any time to eat lunch, what with Snow pouncing on her the second she came in.

* * *

When she got back to the library, she opened the drawer of the circulation desk and took out the brownie she kept in sandwich bag for emergencies, scarfed it down, and reminded herself to get another one. She figured it wouldn't do a whole lot to end the rumbling in her stomach, but it was better than nothing. Then she set to checking in all the books, and when she was interrupted by the sound of something clearing their throat, she responded with a loud, "What do you want?"

Then she looked up and started at the sight of the man who held the book and was waiting to get checked out. His eyes were full of surprise and he'd stepped back from the counter. "Sorry, Mr. Gold," she apologized. "I've not had a good couple of hours and I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"Is Snow trying to find you a date for her ball?" He asked, resting his cane against the counter beside him and then leaning forward so he could look into her eyes. "Very persistent, isn't she?" They had bonded over their irritation with the Charmings' bossy behavior, and each thought it nice to have an ally in the other when it came to that.

"Yeah," Belle shuddered. "She's been bothering you too?"

"No...not anymore, anyway," Mr. Gold replied. "I mean, she tried, but she gave up quickly." He grinned. "I guess she thinks everyone around here is too good for me. That I'd ruin them if they got too close."

"She can't _stop_ throwing men at me!" Belle said. "Every time I go into Granny's, she pounces with that damn binder of hers and I just...now whenever I even think about it, I just want to give her a good hard push and then laugh as she falls on her bottom!"

"Yes," Mr. Gold grinned. "That would be delightful, especially if someone were to get pictures."

"I'd take them," Belle agreed. "That's for sure." She paused. "Wait a minute. Would you like to go with me? To the dance, I mean? Or...or we could stay home together. Order food? I don't know. It's better than being alone, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. Gold gave her a real smile then, something he rarely did for anyone. "I agree. But I would much prefer to see the looks on everyone's faces when we stride through the door the night of the dance. But we can still have food. Dance or not, we have to eat."

"All right," Belle replied with a nod to settle it. "It's a date then."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Mr. Gold said. Then she checked out his book for him and made a note to meet him at his shop before they went to Granny's for dinner.

* * *

On the day of, she began getting ready about two hours before she was supposed to leave. Mr. Gold had wanted to come pick her up, but she insisted that since this wasn't, she thought, a date in its most typical sense, she could walk to the shop and they could go from there together. She got on her best dress (which, she thought ruefully as she stared at the black fabric with its silver and white adornments on the collar and skirt, was not as fancy as it could be. It was still totally obvious that she'd sewed it herself, and she was only competent with a needle, not fantastic.), and then sat around for the remaining time, looking at the clock every five minutes, even though that did nothing to move time along.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was time for her to leave. She grabbed her small silver clutch purse, (leaving the small silver pistol her friend Leroy insisted she get to ward off bad people behind on the desk), put a small disposable camera in it so she could have pictures to remember the evening, and made her way from the library to Mr. Gold's shop.

When he opened the door to her knock, his jaw dropped and so did hers. "You...you look nice in your suit," she remarked. "It...it suits you." She chuckled at her own witticism.

"So does that dress," he complimented her, then reached out to touch the sleeve. "You...you made this yourself, didn't you?"

"How can you tell?" She grinned. "I know I'm no good with a needle, and it shows."

"Oh, give yourself some credit," he smiled. "You're a lot better than most people. The dress is in one piece and none of the adornment is falling off. It's beautiful."

"And coming from someone who...who at least used to do that sort of thing, cause I don't know if you still do, that's a compliment." Belle smiled, her blue eyes bright. "Thank you. It's the only nice dress I have though, so I should really work on getting some others."

"Maybe we could collaborate?" Mr. Gold offered. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," Belle grinned. "Thank you. I could use a more experienced eye than my own to help me along." She paused as she looked around the shop. "You know, I've never actually been in here before. You have a lot of things."

"Yes," Mr. Gold nodded. "I do." He paused. "And...and my name is Rumplestiltskin. You may call me that if you like."

"All right," Belle grinned. "Thank you, Rumplestiltskin."

"You're welcome, Belle," he replied. He then put a hand on her back as he gave her a tour of the shop, then, steeling themselves, they made their way to Granny's for dinner.

* * *

As was expected, when they went in together, conversation at the diner ceased and everyone stared for what seemed like an eternity before Belle said, "Would you all get back to your dinners, please? We just want to eat like everyone else. Nothing odd to see here."

As everyone reluctantly went back to their own conversations, Granny sat them at a table, eying them both like they were beasts that might bite. But Belle took no notice. "Thank you," she told Granny, her smile wide. Then she turned to face Rumple, her smile wide. "What are you gonna order?" She asked.

He was so shocked by the question that as he went to grab his menu, he dumped her water in her lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, looking absolutely mortified as he handed her napkin after napkin to wipe herself off with. "I didn't mean to ruin your lovely dress."

"It's just water," she assured him. "It's fine. It will dry."

Finally, Granny came back and they ordered iced teas and burgers, not rushing through dinner, no matter how much they could tell the other diners wanted them to.

They didn't do much more than stare until, at last, without looking at Rumple, Snow came to the table and, in a hushed voice, suggested Belle come with her and Emma to the bathroom.

"You know, that's very good timing," she remarked, knowing full well what Snow meant. "I've had a lot of iced tea." Then she followed Snow and Emma to the bathroom, and when Snow was sure they were alone, she began talking.

"I'm sure you realize that we didn't ask you in here just to go to the bathroom," she said.

"What we really wanted to talk about is you and Mr. Gold-"

"Just a minute," Belle interrupted. "You might not have invited me in here to go to the bathroom, but when I said I had to go, I wasn't kidding." Snow's jaw dropped a little as Belle made her way into the bathroom stall and locked the door. Then, she was done, she emerged with a steely look on her face and made her way toward Snow until the woman was backed up against the wall.

"Whatever you have to tell me about Rumple, I'm in no mood to listen," she told her. "You don't think I know what this town thinks of me. You don't think I _hear_ you all talk about how I'm the weird one, and if I could just get myself a man, it would be all right? Or what I heard the second he and I sat down? Well, I don't need one. I've done fine on my own, and, if it happens that that's how things go for me, I would continue to be fine on my own. I'm not co-dependent like all of you. I don't _need_ a man to complete me. Especially not the sort you'd find acceptable. I asked Rumple to come with me tonight because I wanted to see the looks on your faces when you see proof that your particular road to happiness doesn't work for everyone. That you don't have to be perfect with a spotless reputation to be worthy of love or attention, or to even just be thought of as a human being! I think from now on, you should just mind your own business and leave me and whoever I choose to make myself happy alone!"

Snow and Emma were shocked. Their mouths were opening and closing. No one had ever dared talk to them like that before. Everyone usually agreed with what they said and why wouldn't they? And why wouldn't _she_?

Their faces made Belle smile. She took the small camera out of her purse and snapped a photo so Rumple would be able to share in the experience, then said with dignity, "I hope this has been informative for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner companion to get back to. Good evening." She then left the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, then making her way back to the table, where Rumple was waiting with their food.

"Everything all right?" He asked. "Because we don't have to stay-"

"I'm fine," she smiled. "And I hope you are." She took a bite of her burger and then swallowed. "MMMMM! These are so good! Don't you think?"

"Yes," he nodded and put ketchup on his. "I do." He then grinned and took a bite, some ketchup squirting onto his paisley tie.

"Oh, I'm sure we can get that out with some water," Belle commented.

"It's fine," he said with a grin, something he definitely woudl not have done any other time. "I can handle it later."

"You should have seen the looks on Snow and Emma's faces when I told them off about you," she chuckled. "They were so shocked! It was like no one had ever told them off before!"

"Well, no one except me," Rumple whispered. "Maybe they saw you as more pliable."

"I don't think they're completely wrong with how they look at the world," Belle said. "But there are some things...some things they're wrong about. Not everyone has to be like them. Why don't they get it?"

"I have no idea," Rumple shook his head. "But we're better for being different, that's for sure."

As everyone began to leave for the ball, Rumple and Belle continued to eat and chat, not moving from their seats until Granny came and said, "You two going to the ball? It's almost time for it to start."

"We're not in a rush," Belle shook her head. "Thanks, Granny."

* * *

When the check was paid and they left the diner, they had to decide what to do next. "Do you really want to go to the dance at all?" Belle questioned, Rumple's hand in hers. "I mean, the whole point of it was to see the looks on people's faces and we already got that at dinner. I'm all right to skip it if you are."

"If you've taken enough of a risk for one night, I'll take you back to your apartment," Rumple told her. "You live over the library, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm not really in a rush to go back," Belle told him. "My air conditioner is broken and it's a bit uncomfortable."

"I don't know if my apartment in the shop is cooler, but if you'd like, you can come and have a nightcap," Rumple offered.

"Thanks," Belle replied. "I would love that."

When they were sitting on his sofa with two glasses of champagne, Rumple said, "You know, it's been a while since I've done this, so I'm a bit out of practice. Champagne is a drink for two and I just...I haven't had anyone to share it with."

"I know what you mean," Belle nodded. "It's been a while since I've been with anyone either. I've been keeping myself on the shelf lately, like the good China. But there's nothing wrong with that, is there? Holding out for what you deserve?"

"No," Rumple shook his head, feeling himself lean forward to smell the scent of the rose shampoo that she'd used to wash her hair. "I wouldn't say so."

"And...and I just...I wouldn't mind having someone to just hold my hand," she continued and took his. "The warmth of another human body."

"Yes," Rumple nodded and massaged her palm gently with his thumb, then ran his hand up her bare arm before pulling his hand away cause he thought he'd gone too far. But she didn't protest, just kept her eyes on his as he leaned forward, not close enough to kiss her, but close enough that their breaths mingled when he spoke. "I also could use the warmth of another human body." They kissed then, and after pulling apart, lapsed into silence, their breathing picking up. It was beginning to be warm in Rumple's apartment too.

"Are you as warm as I am?" She asked, getting up to fan out her sweaty dress, as he watched, slowly losing his train of thought.

"Sorry," he said. "You know, I have a floor fan that I can bring in here if you want to spend the night."

"Oh, don't be silly," Belle told him. "You're the host, you keep it." She paused. "But...but if it's not too forward, you wouldn't mind if I took a cool bath, would you?"

"No," Rumple told her. "Go right on ahead. There's a bathrobe hanging next to the tub, and use the cotton towels under the sink. They'll be less likely to irritate your skin."

"Thank you," Belle told him with a smile. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"You don't know _how much_ I think of you," he said out loud when she was gone. Then he poured himself another drink and went to get some fruit out of the fridge and set up the floor fan.

It was as he was getting something out of the cupboard under the sink that he heard a cry and some laughter, then looked up just in time to see the floor fan blow some of Belle's robe aside to show off her legs.

"Oh, sorry," he said and came to help her. "Silly fan."

"It's all right," she told him.

"Would you like some fruit?" He asked and and indicated the bowl. "I know we just ate, but..."

"Sure," Belle replied and grabbed some ice from the champagne bucket to rub her neck with before pickout out a strawberry, not biting into it right away, but sucking on it first.

"I really like fruit," she remarked. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Rumple nodded. "Yes, I do."

She picked some pineapple up out of the bowl. "Want to give this a try?" She asked and then held it out for him to take a bite. He ate right up to her red polished fingers and then stopped, taking her hand and kissing each one of her fingers and her palm.

"Sorry," he said after. "Should I be sorry?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "Not when it's been so long for me."

They made their way to his bed and undressed, kissing furiously before falling onto the mattress. Then, they stared at one another and Rumple said, "Just a minute, I have an idea. Let me get the ice bucket."

So he did, and they ran ice over each other's bare bodies while they kissed and nipped each other, then as the heat and the steady buzz of the floor fan got to them, they collapsed in a heap under the blankets, knowing that people would be abuzz about them tomorrow, but not caring because what did those people know about real passion anyway?

 **The End**


End file.
